From the Darkness
by Quill-and-Parchment
Summary: What is the difference between a master and a friend? They're both whom you respect, loyal to and willing to die for them. But they are not one. They -cannot- be one. So who am I to choose now? What is the right answer to this question? Digimon-centric.
1. Wounded Hunter

**From the Darkness**

_by_

_Quill-and-Parchment_

_**Chapter 1: Wounded Hunter**_

The city below was flocked with humans. Lights, noises and poisonous gas rose into the air, nearly making her pass out from its burning smell, but she did not allow herself such luxury. As it was, she quickly shook the thought out of her head and scoffed herself. Her job was not to daydream; her job was to observe.

Nothing was new that she could report to her master, the Digimon thought as she returned her attention back to the busy streets. Her built-in radar warned her of nothing. No Digimons were close by. She was alone. And she preferred it that way – crowds made her uncomfortable, making her feel like she was exposed, somehow, the target of eyes, and she despised it.

It was just fine the way it is. She was alone in her starless night. Nothing was better.

"Doumon."

Her respond to the call of her name was a mere tilt of her head. She'd not sensed its owner's coming, but she would not admit that to anyone. That would be admitting a weakness. Instead, she said in an even tone, "Greetings, Devimon. I have no news."

Doumon could feel something shift behind her, but she did not stiffen. This one means her no harm, that she knew. He was most likely just trying to get into a more comfortable position. "Same here," the Devimon grumbled sourly, coming to stand next to her. "This is getting rather boring, isn't it?"

"The Master insists," Doumon answered.

"Yes, the Master insisted," her companion agreed. He glared down at the city with more annoyance than hatred. "Seriously, though, I don't know why it's necessary. We had a guard at all the possible portals in this world, right? So if the thing arrives, we would be able to catch it anyway."

But Doumon shook her head. "M.A.I.D.E.N. might assist our target," she said. "You know how she is. She would try anything and everything to tick our Master. It is a shame we cannot destroy her." It would solve many things, Doumon reflected. For one, they would rid themselves of a powerful, annoying deity of the Digital World who continuously guide their enemies to freedom and thwart the Master's plans. She was a great setback, but deleting her was impossible, since her program was ingrained into the Digital World's Bio-code itself.

Devimon nodded in agreement. "You're right. I wonder if there's a way to get rid of that annoying pest once and for all," he mused, idly waved his hand and sent a dark zap from his finger that fried the pigeon flying past with little sound. Doumon watched the charred remains obey the law of gravity as it fell down on the city below dispassionately.

"That might cause alarms," she said, not caring very much.

Devimon snorted. "Right. And you will get caught?"

Well, that _is_ true. She never got caught. It was one of the reasons why the Master valued her so much. Although she was not one to seek violent or to fight (many called her lazy), her stalking, concealed movement skills and constant vigilance were legendary, making her the perfect watchdog and sometimes assassin. The fact that he'd sent her to the human world, away from her watchtower, was the indication that this was very important indeed.

So here she was, watching the world, waiting for their target to arrive, seeing if there were assistances on this side of the gate or not, ready to pounce. The other Digimons had started complaining about being bored, and Doumon could understand them. She was itching for action, too. It had, after all, been three months. Three months of a repeated, unexciting cycle. Doumon had never been _this_ bored, even back in the Digital World. There were always some foolish resistances rising up against her Master that she had to take care of.

Unfortunately, their target remained elusive. There had been threats flying around about Digimons asking to give the target a piece of their minds, and Doumon understood that if it shows up, there would be a bloodbath. Her comrades would kill each other to get to the action first, along with the reward that will accompany it.

Oh, yes, the Master is going to be _very_ generous with the one who captures his little runaway.

But first, the target had to be _found_, wouldn't it?

"The idiots back in the Digital World had better have better luck than us," Devimon growled in frustration, glaring at the streets below. "I can't wait to get back to my original duty – or at least get transferred back there." Well, yes, that was true, Doumon reflected. The dorks back in their world actually had active duties, not pretending to be statues atop skyscrapers dodging bird poops for fun. It was distracting, but it was anything but fun. Either that or shoot birds – but seeing as the last idiot who did that got caught by the D.C. (Digimon Cops), they'd quickly stopped that hobby.

So yes, the guards on this side were reduced to watching dodging bird poops as a mean of entertainment. And the bombard didn't even come hourly.

If it wasn't for their fear of the Master, his hall would've been chucked full of complaints by now.

"Let us wait patiently and see," Doumon said, still not looking at Devimon. How many options do we have left?

"Well, if I have to wait another week, I'm going to –" Devimon was cut short, and both their heads snapped up as a voice blasted through their minds like a speaker that had been turned up as loud as it could go. Being veterans, however, both braced themselves rather than yelp and fall.

_We got him! _Master's voice announced. _Southern Tokyo, now!_

"Oh, Master be blessed!" Devimon howled with joy, spreading his wings. Even Doumon could not fight off a smirk on her usually emotionless face as she tensed before jumping into the air, heading south. Her companion's wing beats soon caught up with her.

"Rookies coming," Doumon said simply, her keen eyes detecting the shadowy figures of newbies flying toward them. A bunch of morons, of course. The rookies these days (those who were new to the job, not rookie as their age) were so full of themselves. They challenged the veterans, thinking they could take their elders on. Results to those fights had always been more eggs sent back to the Primary Village.

_As it should be,_ Doumon thought.

"Tch," Devimon growled. "Annoying little things, them. Now if you would excuse me…" He turned around, and two seconds later, Doumon heard the shout of "Razor Wings!" Screams followed shortly. It was done. A few more useless ass-kissers destroyed and sent back to the nearest human-built Primary Garden.

Doumon spoke as Devimon once again caught up to her, "You could've saved your power for the big events and leave them to the others, you know. They would probably have wiped each other out."

Her companion laughed. "I just wanted a warm-up, that's all." He turned to her, growing serious. "I know we're as close to buds as we can get, Doumon, but if you get in my way –"

"I'll stand guard," the other Digimon interrupted smoothly. "You deal with the hunt. Just let me have some fun; that's all I ask of you. I won't even care about the rewards."

Devimon laughed again. "You're so agreeable." He tilted his wings as Doumon's inner radar detected a strange bio-code moving right below them. They exchanged one look before diving, falling past the monsters who were good enough to look through the concealment and started to cloud around the area, along with those that tagged along.

Immediately, some of the Digimons were forced to hang back. The target had moved into a narrow alley, and some of the dragons and larger beast-types couldn't squeeze into. It was easy, though, for Doumon, Devimon and man-type to follow it, zigzagging in the dark and dodging the occasion trash cans along with attacks from their fellow comrades.

_Quit killing each other and focus on the runaway, you fools!_ Master roared in their minds, making them falter slightly. Doumon shook her head to clear the warning and increased her speed, sweeping the darkness with her eyes, looking for what she wanted. Where is it? Where is it? Where is –?

"Devimon!" the Digimon shouted. She could just see the blurry blue shape that was running right in front of them. Her radar confirmed her suspicion quickly.

"Got it!" her companion growled. He pushed ahead while she suddenly turned around and faced the twenty-something Champions throwing themselves at her. She raised her hands. This should be easy enough.

Red paper talismans flew through the air, past the Digimons in front of her to their puzzlement, past the rest, and attached themselves into the cars of the Digimon Cops behind them. Explosions ripped through the air, along with screams and lights of destroyed Digimons. Satisfaction filling her, Doumon turned to the rest. "Get back there and stop those pests from interfering," she ordered, then pointed to three Ogremons. "You three, come with me. We'll cut the target off."

Protests started to rise, but one glare from Doumon silenced them. Her ruthless kills of invaders were heard across the Master's kingdom, and nobody would dare cross the fox when she was in a bad mood. As it was, she wasn't exactly all cheers and smiles either. Whirling around, she started flying eastward, not caring if the ones she'd chosen would be able to follow her or not.

The night might as well have been bright day for her. In the air, she had a clear view of everything, and absently Doumon flicked her hand, sending an approaching Peckmon back to its egg for getting into her way. She glanced around, finding her target along with Devimon. He was alone, but six other Digimons were closing in. The target was also about to intercept with the crowded streets. That would make businesses messier.

Changing her course, Doumon flew west, giving any Digimon who tried to get in her way a vehement glare so they could wisely keep back from interfering. She deleted another idiot in her way and increased her speed as much as she could, making the world around her melt together in a blur. Closer, closer, closer…

With enough force to crack the pavement, Doumon landed in front of their target, blocking it off from the crowded streets. A small tokomon standing nearby cowered back, but Doumon didn't give it a single glance. If it didn't trip her, she could care less about it.

"You have nowhere to run," Doumon informed the slumped figure in front of her matter-of-factly. "Surrender, and maybe the Master will be merciful to you."

Harsh breaths were all that were heard for a few seconds before the figure laughed harshly. "So…what? Am I suppose to say something cliché like 'I will never give in!' or something? And you are not a convincing liar, either." He growled at Doumon. "Step aside, fox cub, or I'll be forced to make you."

Doumon didn't move. "You are in no position to threaten," she told him in the same even tone she'd used before. "And yes, maybe I lie. Maybe the Master has no mercy, but that is the way it is and I shall not question it. It is his orders that you be recaptured, and it is his order that I shall follow." She stepped forward, thinking she would just have to share the reward with Devimon if he didn't get his data here in time.

Suddenly, the dark shape of her companion appeared out of the shadows, grinning. "I see you've got him cornered, Doumon," he snarled, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Speaking of the devil," Doumon commented, stepping back and returning to her previous position. "He's all yours."

"With pleasure!" Devimon dove at the figure, but with a movement that belied its petite and gasping self, the thing moved with lightning speed, dashing out of the way and attempting to throw itself at Doumon. Out of reflex, she raised her hand and a single red talisman shot out of her sleeve, nailing the target in his face.

She realized it was a mistake as soon as she saw the thing's eyes brightened, but it was already too late.

With a triumphant cry, the Digimon before them swallowed the talisman like it was a tasty treat. It started glowing a bright red light that changed to blue, so bright Doumon was forced to shield her eyes from it even though she knew it was a mistake to take them off of the target. She heard Devimon's scream of pain, but was unaware to do anything about it.

Then it hit.

Doumon screamed, doubling over as agony shot through her body. She felt like her data – every bit of them – were trying to rip her apart, trying to escape her body and scatter as violently as they could. And perhaps that _was_ what was happening. She could feel it: her limbs were fading away, and it hurt worse than that time she'd been seriously injured by the Master for letting the invaders escape.

It did not stop, and had Doumon been able to speak, she would've begged for it to stop its attack on her body. But she couldn't speak, and all she could do was collapse onto her knees, hugging herself as she faded away, losing data rapidly. Her body started to glow a yellow light as the Digimon thought she might pass out, shrinking more and more until she was nothing more than an in-training Digimon, her second-to-earliest form, weak and pathetic.

After what seemed like ages later, she could hear something walking past her, and with all that was left of her rapidly fading strength, she opened her eyes to look up at the one who made the noises. Instead, a hand found itself on her head, rubbing roughly.

"Find a better life, Viximon," the target told her in a soft voice. "I hope you will understand my plight someday."

The hand vanished, and all the little Digimon could do was close her eyes. Her strength was spent. She had nothing left. Some cops would probably come later and delete her completely, sending her back to her egg stage. Then when she was reborn again, she would have no memory of this life, instead starting a new one – and maybe even grow to be a Digimon who works with humans.

It was over.

_Master is going to kill me,_ she thought groggily before the darkness claimed her.

* * *

_So I probably have you people confused about the settings and circumstances the story was set in. This is somewhere far in the future (think 2215), where humans and Digimons have grown to accept each other. All portals to the Digital World and back are guarded by both species on each side and security was tightened, thus making the possibility of creating a completely new portal a fantasy - but not all of them are guarded, and some are used by smuggling gangs or other criminals from both worlds to sneak to and back._

_The Digimon Cops are in fact the same organization in Digimon: Data Squad, except with a lot more members and they work like normal cops, just with Digimon partners. Digimons roam our world as often as we roam theirs on their side. To put it simply, the two worlds were open to their neighbor's inhabitants. As Digimons discover ours, we discover more of theirs._

_And the rest - well, it will all be explained in the course of the story._

_~Quill_


	2. Keep on Running

_**Chapter 2: Keep on Running**_

Everything hurt.

Her small body throbbed with pain, a sharp stab that intensified with every small movement she made. But she kept her crawl toward the safety of the large trashcan close by. Devimon was gone, she knew that. There was no sign of him around, and if he was affected by the same attack their target had used, then he was dead by now.

She'd tried to contact her master upon waking, but all was silent. The code he'd placed in her that allowed him to give out direct commands and monitor her personally had probably been destroyed when she was losing her life force to that blast. Now she was completely alone, helpless…and weakening. Without that code, without that constant, pressing presence in her mind, Viximon felt strangely lost. She had hated how the device intruded on her privacy almost all the time, but when it was gone, she wished it would return. At least it would make her feel less alone.

For the moment, the Viximon knew she was fairly stable, but bits of data had been bleeding out from her as she moved, and the pain she was suffering warned her of what _would_ happen if she does not find help soon – and that possibility was looking more and more promising. The rest were gone, not that she would count on them to save her. Devimon was a little better than the rest, but he, too, was gone.

Trapped. Trapped and dying.

A beautiful ending to a beautifully-lived life.

Viximon nearly laughed aloud. There was no beautiful ending, even to a really beautiful life, she thought. No matter how it ends, there would always be something bad about it. When one _dies,_ the world can't be happy. Not the entire world. There would be those who mourn even if it was for selfish reasons and the mourner would probably be the one who dies. If the who dies had no regret…well, somebody else will.

_They're probably celebrating right now,_ Viximon thought, unfamiliar bitterness overwhelming the thought and giving it a sharp edge. She didn't have the energy to do anything, however, so she just crawled harder, nearing her goal. _The watchdog of the Master, third best of the ranks, defeated by a mere Champion!_

Hatred she was unaccustomed to made her eyesight turn red, and the Viximon growled dangerously, the hair on her tail and body standing up straight. She'd known there were Digimons who could force-evolve by strong emotions, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, these emotions could give her back what she'd lost. So she fed it, thinking about the smirking faces of her master's pets – _her_ underlings.

The hatred was white-hot now, and Viximon started to shake. She didn't even need to _try_ to hate anymore; the feeling came automatically now, finding twisted, ugly but not untruth images in her mind, gaining them from the knowledge and facts she knew from her time under the Master, and the feeling in her kept boiling, boiling…

However, at long last, the Viximon suddenly deflated, closing her eyes and tried to hold in a squeak at the pain that lanced through her entire body. She went limp, relaxing against the cold steel pavement, worn, weak, and lacking the strength to even _hate_ anymore.

And that was saying something.

Viximon shivered as she remembered the feel of the target's hand on her head. It was an odd sensation, one that sent stabs of fear down her spine, one she had not felt since she was a Doumon, recruited by the Master. And it frightened her. It frightened her that she could still be _afraid_. Fear was a hindrance, nothing more. To think that she was still capable of it…

The attack had been strange, also. Viximon knew that the Digimon they were chasing was an unidentified type, one sired by the Digital World to stop the Master's goal and one assisted by M.A.I.D.E.N. as well. However, she had known nothing of the power he'd held; nothing was given to her regarding his attack strength. He probably didn't fight before this.

Coupled with what he'd told her, the puzzle only gave Viximon a headache. But she had not the time or mean to ponder on that subject. She decided that of all the enemies she'd ever faced, she hated him most of all. He'd spared her life, yes, but he'd also turned her back to her in-training stage, and to think that he could just _left_ her there…

If Viximon could, she would've inflated in anger. However, she was already much too tired for that, and so she struggled to crawl to the trashcan, to the warm heaven behind it and just get some rest. Viximon had to gather her strength first, then she could start figuring out what exactly was wrong with her. She wasn't injured – there wasn't a scratch on her – but she was still losing data albeit at a slow pace.

Right. Survival first. Riddles later.

Voices could be heard from outside now…The D.C. are sweeping the place, probably. She'd somehow woken soon enough to get away from the immediate scene before they reached her, although how she'd regained consciousness so fast after that attack – that pain – was beyond her. Nevertheless, she'd escaped, and now Viximon supposed she was in a deeper part of the back alley system, lost. Briefly, she wondered if she should turn around and head back the way she came and seek help from the humans. But no…If they scanned her data, they would find traces of her master's signature, and then she would be in interrogation.

Or worse, they could forcefully pull the memories from her. Then she would have no choice but to reveal to them what they knew. Although she was no Digimon when it comes to the Master's inner schemes, she _was_ a watchdog, and thus, she knew all and every gap in defense, offense and other things regarding security of the Master's realm.

No, that would not have been an option. Although de-evolved, injured and on the verge of dying, Viximon was reluctant to betray her Master. It was the same way a creation trying to turn on its creator, she supposed, or a son trying to turn on his father. It was not easy. She'd served him long and hard, five or six decades even, and she wasn't going to lose all that work just because she couldn't save her own hide.

One way or another, the Viximon was on her own. Until she could return to her glory as Doumon the Silent Guard, nobody in her Master's service would even _look_ at her twice.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she swallowed it and crawled faster. Finally, she reached the haven (albeit smelly) behind the trashcan, and with a sigh, she tucked herself in there, glad for the warmth. The metal wasn't, of course, but it would warm with her body heat later. At least here the winds were less fierce. Spring evenings weren't as warm as summer's.

Viximon closed her eyes. Sleep. Yes, she needs that. Pushing the rest out of her mind, the little Digimon let the waves of exhaustion overtake her, bringing her to a realm where there was only peaceful darkness.

Something suddenly cackled, instantly waking the little in-training from her semi-conscious stage. The first thing that met her blue eyes was a pair of purple legs, then as her eyes traveled upward, she saw a smiley face, partially covered with a red scarf, then a smirking mouth, a pair of sharp green eyes, and finally, ears that looked somewhat like a joker's hat.

"Yo," the Impmon grinned, a small flame held in one of his gloved hands. "Lost, are ya?"

* * *

"Did you hear about what happened at the Western Plaza last night?"

"Yeah! Of course I did! _Everybody_ did! It's kinda hard not to."

"I agree. Hey, wanna check it out later today?"

"You crazy? The DigiCops probably got all the exits and roads closed down."

_Dad wouldn't be too happy to find somebody sneaking into his crime scene either,_ a boy who sat away from the bunch of chitchatting students, near the window, thought. He looked up briefly from the paper he'd been reading and gave them a glance, bespectacled dark green eyes zeroing on three of the two: a dark-haired girl who were, against the wishes of the dress-code, wearing skimpy clothes, a boy with puffy brown hair and another boy with slightly darker hair and dressing like a punk.

Inoue Suzuki, Jano Kioshi and Seiji Hara in that order, the boy mentally listed their names. He would have to warn his father about this later. If they wanted trouble in that area…Well, that would be rather unwise to say the least. Knowing the hot-blooded Seiji and Jano who always followed his best friend's example, they would be snooping around the destroyed plaza, no doubt. Inoue was Seiji's cousin, and although she was worried of him, she lacked the will and patience to stop him, so she would most likely go along with the two boys.

Just then, Inoue turned to look directly at him, and the bespectacled boy's eyes widened in mild surprise. "Tanaka-san's dad works with the DigiCops, isn't that right?" she suggested, tossing her dirty blonde hair over one shoulder.

Seiji and Jano followed her gaze, and the former's face brightened. "Oh, yeah! I forgot! Hey, Tanaka, you got any news from your pops?"

In less than a minute, Akihiko Tanaka was swarmed with humans and Digimons alike as they crowded around him, firing off questions faster than he could comprehend. "Okay!" a Biyomon yelled, quickly silencing the crowd, and Akihiko shot the Digimon a thankful look. "Back _off_! The way you're asking, not even my partner could answer." They all know her partner's quick-talking and word-jamming habit.

"Yeah, so how about we started with this," Seiji said. He looked at Akihiko eagerly. "How many people dead?"

The crowd groaned. "What the heck, dude?" one kid moaned. "Why are you caring about how many people being _dead_?"

"Ten," Akihiko sighed, removing the glasses he used to read things up close. The tiny newspaper was giving him a headache _again_, with prints the size of ants. He didn't know what their Language Arts teacher found so absolutely _delightful_ about reading these. "Maybe more. They're sifting through the debris. That's how much so far. There'll be a body count at ten o'clock each night."

"Are many people hurt?" a fearful girl asked.

It took Akihiko three seconds to remember. "Approximately three hundreds," he informed tonelessly. "Luckily, there are enough Digimons around there along with human partners so that they could defend the place somewhat before the Cops arrived." Seeing the look of concern and worry on his classmates' faces, Akihiko added, "Out of about sixteen hundred, most of them are not fatal.

"The damages, however, might take months to repair. Two mall buildings are destroyed, many estimated to be trapped within the debris and we are currently trying to dig them out –"

"Dude, what the heck!" Seiji cut in. Akihiko blinked at him in confusion. Seeing the look, the blue-eyed boy elaborated, "The way you talked, I thought you are one of those emotionless people informing people about the attack on TV or something! Show some emotions! Show some worries!"

Akihiko only blinked at him again. However, he wasn't used to being confused, and so it passed quickly with the green-eyed boy saying, "My apologizes. As you know, my father is a sheriff, and his way of reports is starting to get to me." Essentially, he knew that wasn't true. Akihiko had always spoken this way, listing out facts with little to no emotions, but still…

The bell suddenly rang. "Aw, we have to go," the Biyomon from earlier groaned. She glanced at her partner, a bespectacled (and unlike Akihiko, 24/7) kid near the other end of the room, waved before running off to join the Digimons outside. Those who were partnered up with humans could enter the school ground at break times, but when classes started again, they had to retreat back to the Digital World to do whatever they liked. Their Digivices allowed instant transportation to their partners' sides if there was a crisis.

As the Digimons said good-byes and ran out the hallway (their classes had six Tamers) to go find the portal located in the basement, the teacher stepped in, glaring at her students who quickly scrambled to get back to their seats. When everyone were settled, Mizuki-sensei glared over them one more time before saying in a crisp voice, "Take out your books. Chapter six, page ninety-nine. Yuma!" She pointed her Finger of Command to a kid at the front. "Start reading!"

Putting his glasses back on, Akihiko put his newspaper away and got the book out to start reading, although he wasn't really seeing the words. He thought about what had happened just the night before, how the plaza with more than sixteen hundred people had been brutally bombarded by rogue Digimons. He'd never seen the creatures as inhuman things that were incapable of thinking; his father was, after all, the sheriff of the DigiCops. However, there were still ones who feared the Digimons since they were obviously superior to the humans, their technology far-surpassing theirs. Naturally, the feared what is stranger and better than them, and if those anti-Digimons caught winds of this…

It might become troublesome later. _Very_ troublesome.

Akihiko's mind drifted around the problems that could arise from this massive attack on such a crowded place with so many deaths – and deletions, although the human officials might've cared less. All they would see is that a bunch of dangerous monsters attacking themselves, and thus, it might cause a civil war, with Tamers and their partners caught in the middle, fighting both side, since the human's declaration of war would gladly be accepted by the Digimons if it comes to that. And if _that_ happens…

The bell rang, nearly sending Akihiko flying out of his chair. As it was, he jumped hard enough to knock his knees painfully against his desk, and the boy bit back a sharp exclamation. Instead, he turned it into a vehement curse that would've made his mother slap him. Akihiko glanced around, watching his classmates packing up to leave for home, snatches of their complains floating back to him.

"Aw, I can't _believe_ it! She made us do a five-pages assignment on analyzing the main character of the book! What the hell?"

"I swear, that woman's just trying to make our lives miserable…"

Akihiko's eyes were written to the board in surprise, and true to the complains, sitting there in black marker against white, was their homework. _I _told_ Seiji that sewer rat in Mizuki-sensei's drawer was a bad idea,_ Akihiko thought. But it wasn't like it was not understandable or uncommon. Mizuki-sensei had always been a target for practical pranks of all kind as long as Akihiko had known her, and that was since he was in first grade. He was in the second term of sixth grade now.

There was no arguing it, though. Slightly disgruntled, Akihiko jotted down the notes and stuffed his green notebook, pencil-case and glasses back into his backpack. He then swung it over his shoulder and headed outside, thinking about the dreadful weekend coming up with remorse. Why oh why did he have to have Mizuki-sensei on a _Friday_?

Habara Academy was one of the largest buildings in the city and the schoolyard quickly filled up with students and Digimons trying to find their partners right after the last bell rang, but Akihiko managed to clear it with record time. He ducked his head, trying to make himself look inconspicuous. There were those who didn't exactly adore him, and Akihiko figured he had enough bad luck for one day already. He certainly didn't want bullies on his tail, too.

Two minutes later, Akihiko was already leaving through the school gates, heading left from there. He hoped his mother wouldn't mind him buying some dango. Akihiko was all but addicted to the little rice balls, especially the kind that were baked with soy sauce. Just _thinking_ about them made his mouth watered –

"Hey, Police Boy!"

Akihiko tensed, a cold prickle rising up his spine. The green-eyed boy quickened his steps, nearly running as he navigated down the crowded street, not glancing back. He already knew who it was; it was merely the question of what it takes to get away from the voice's owner and what he wants with him.

Thankfully, the street was especially crowded that day, making it easy for him to blend in with the crowd. Akihiko wasn't all that attention-attracting after all; a brown, _short_ head in the midst of a busy street couldn't be that easy to pick out. He thanked the gods for making him seem unappealing. In situations like this, he could give a lot less care about what girls look for when they "check him out".

He could still hear the voice - no, _voices_ - calling him, and it was getting closer. Akihiko thought frantically for a shortcut back to his house without using the normal streets. They would be fairly empty this time, and Akihiko couldn't chance that. He could use the subways, he thought, but no; he had no money for that…

What about the back alleys?

Akihiko had no clear knowledge of the alley system, but he did know one route back home. However, it was pretty straightforward, so if his pursuers followed him there, he would be revealing to them a shortcut so that they could cut him off later on.

He was trapped.

The feeling made him feel edgy, but Akihiko didn't stop to clear his head, instead darting his eyes from one side of the street to the next, looking for an escape route.

There was an alleyway right next to a tea shop. For once, Akihiko chanced a glance behind him, and to his relief, didn't spot the owner of the voice. However, the familiar blob of red hair was closing in rather quickly, although Akihiko was sure he didn't see him yet. Now was his chance; he'd rather be lost than be beaten up.

Without a second thought, Akihiko took the empty alley and all but ran to the nearest fork, taking the left turn. He glanced around, finding the street was, after all, strange, but he _was_ in the back alley system. Probably. The walls were made of the same rusty material and the steel-laid streets were dirty, just like he remembered. Aside from that, there was no clue Akihiko could find to tell him where he was. But the alleys were connected, and the boy had hope that he would be able to find his way home if he walked around here long enough. Maybe he could find somebody to point the way out for him, although that was rather unlikely. Gang members might be the only things lurking around here. The mere _thought _of it made that cold prickle rise once more.

_No reason to panic,_ Akihiko berated himself, taking another left turn before he took a right. It wouldn't help him in this situation. He seemed to have lost the bullies, or so he hoped. Akihiko paused in his blind venture and looked back, waiting for a few seconds before shrugging. _Good. I hope they don't wander somewhere and run headfirst into me._ The thought made him uncomfortable, but he pushed it aside, continuing his (mindless) wandering.

Twenty minutes passed. Then forty. Then finally an hour. And still Akihiko was lost. Already the boy was starting to regret this as he glanced at the watch strapped around his wrist in disdain. It was probably lucky that his father wouldn't be coming home until past eleven, making his mother have to deal with him alone. Maybe he should buy her something…That would create a _perfect_ excuse for why he was late.

Yes, that would do. Although he'd better find something good. His mother might be a forgiving person, but still, Akihiko didn't want to chance this. If his father found out that he was late to go home without telling them his destination first…

_At least I lost the bullies,_ Akihiko thought, glancing at the sky. It was starting to darken. _I'd trade not meeting them for a scolding session any day._ He wasn't exactly someone who could stand up for himself. He had little training in self-defense, was anything but athletic and spent ninety-eight percents of his days locked up in his house in front of a computer. It wasn't exactly healthy, but there was nothing Akihiko found exciting outside in the world. It presented too much dangers, dangers he wasn't accustomed to.

That and the pain they might bring. Akihiko wasn't thrilled about getting hurt.

He was about to take another left when said alleyway exploded, sending forth a cloud of smoke and wind that forced Akihiko to cover his face with his arms to protect it. When he opened his eyes again, standing not even a foot from him was a purple, impish Digimon whose name was indeed deprived from its appearance: Impmon.

It was also wearing an impossibly large smirk on its face.

"Well, if ya'd been a lil' more _agreeable_, this wouldn't have happened?" the thing cooed as it walked forward, completely ignoring the frozen boy standing close to it, its green eyes strained forward. Akihiko followed the Impmon's gaze to see a yellow, fluffy-looking blob with a white-tipped fox tail and weary blue eyes.

_Viximon,_ Akihiko's brain supplied helpfully once it was relatively unfrozen. _In-training level, not very dangerous._ He looked at the Viximon, seeing how it was barely holding itself upright. _And…not looking good._ He backed away, contemplating running, but right at that moment the Rookie Digimon turned to him, seeing as if it had just noticed the boy for the first time.

"Oh, goody! What've we here?" the thing exclaimed. "Another fun thing for me to play with!" Impmon turned its attention away from the rather miserable-looking heap from across the street and advanced on Akihiko, who started to back off. Although the thing barely stood past his knee, the boy couldn't throw fireballs, nor did he have the dexterity the Impmon have.

_I wonder if stepping on him hard enough would do anything,_ Akihiko thought grimly. He doubted that, though, and he was just having a bit of a problem thinking about what he should do.

"Summon!" A black hole appeared in front of Akihiko. _Oh, shit_. "Flame!"

Akihiko threw himself to the side, barely avoiding the five fireballs that slammed down where he'd previously stood. He fell hard on his right side, but quickly struggled to get up and seeing the Digimon close enough, blindly reached out with his leg and kicked the imp, slamming his foot into its face hard enough to send it skittering away.

_A lovely topic for the school newspaper,_ Akihiko thought even as he shot to his feet, feeling around for something he remembered being given to every kid and adults out there as a precaution ever since Digimons have come to live in their world freely. _"Sheriff's son beating up defenseless Digimons". Wouldn't they just _love_ it?_ _Aha!_ Triumphantly, the boy pulled out what looked like the Digivices Tamers have, except this one was brand new and colorless. A mimic of the original, holding not even a tenth in term of power compared the real thing, but it was useful for a reason.

The boy's hand flew into his pocket, feeling for the card he always left there, away from his usual D-deck in case of emergency. "Card slash: Paralyze!" Akihiko slid the card through its slot, making the screen glow. He pointed it at the recovering Impmon, screen face-up. "Execute!"

With a hiss, a yellow, crackling beam emanated from the glowing screen and hit the Digimon dead on. Impmon looked shocked for a moment before collapsing. He didn't stand up again. Akihiko, however, remained where he was for a few seconds, breathing hard from the exertion and excitement he'd just come through. His left shoulder stung and his right ankle ached. He just hoped it wasn't too serious.

After those few seconds, Akihiko tried to move his ankle, but had to stop when pain shot up his leg. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the tears. Probably twisted. Great. How was he supposed to explain to his mom that he twisted an ankle, got burned marks, bruises _and_ so dirty as the result? She absolutely wouldn't buy that now. How was he supposed to get _home_, anyway?

He suddenly became aware of something looking at him. Akihiko glanced toward his right, seeing the Viximon that had been attacked earlier staring at him, seeming greatly puzzled like it couldn't possibly understand why he'd saved it. Noticing him looking back, the Viximon seemed to contemplate something before it turned around and started scuttling away. Or at least tried to, anyway. The Digimon made it past a trash can five feet away from its original spot before collapsing and lying still.

"Hey!" Akihiko called, trying to get to his feet once again, ignoring the pain as best as he could (he only groaned instead of outright screaming) and hobbled after the thing. Eventually, the boy fell to his knees next to the yellow in-training, his eyes looking over the prone form. Scratches, scorches, dirt…There was not an inch of clean fur. Furthermore…

Akihiko's eyes widened at the fading tail. Bits of data were leaving it, making the white part of the limb almost transparent. However, it was doing so very slowly, slower than the other cases he'd seen. It was like the Viximon was suffering from a slow poisoning that was making it lose data. But that was impossible…or not. Maybe it wasn't; with the level of technology right now, there was no telling what might and might not be possible.

He didn't have his D-Cards, having left them at home since all he needed was the Paralyze card. Akihiko had no partner Digimon anyway and wasn't planning on having one anytime soon. D-Cards are his sister's obsession, not his. And even if he did, Akihiko doubted he would be able to do anything. What the Digimon needed now is a check-in with a technician and him with a doctor. His mother was a Digimon Technician…They could both get help at his house.

Which only brought him back to the present problem: Akihiko was definitely lost, the Viximon was fading, he could not walk and they were alone.

And he thought the _bullies_ were bad…


	3. First Contact

_**Chapter 3: First Contact**_

The next time she woke, she didn't hurt quite so much anymore.

In fact, she didn't hurt at all. She felt more rested than she'd had in _weeks_. Digimons needed rest, too, unlike what some humans think. They were not invincible. They were far from it. However, since the Master commanded it, she was forced to endure her exhaustion. It was, after all, the Master's order and who was her to disobey?

Slowly, Viximon opened her eyes. What greeted her first was…something white. Too white to be the pavement outside. And it wasn't even dark. It was supposed to be dark; when she passed out, it must nearly be the time the sun goes down. Maybe she hadn't passed out all that long? No, but that would not have made sense, either. If she did, then the pavement should've been painted a darker color from the fading light.

Besides, this is too soft to be the floor…

Comprehension flashed across her brain, and within seconds, Viximon was onto her feet, glancing around frantically. She was in a room. A _human's_ room. She had only been in such a space once, and that was when she was very young. A misadventure, really. She didn't intend to get sucked in by that portal. But she could still remember what it was called. A…bedroom, was it?

The rectangular room was relatively large and spacious. It had enough space for a study desk set right in front of a large window, a wardrobe that was built into the wall on one side, a bookcase next to that, and a nightstand. The wall was a dark navy, and on the ceiling there was one light, turned on. It explained why it was so bright.

Viximon glanced down at the thing she was currently lying – or standing – on. It was, as she suspected, a bed. Which means she was in a human house. That was pretty much the worst thing that could happen aside from getting caught by the cops. For one, Viximon didn't trust humans. Two: she certainly didn't want to stick around to find out what exactly they wanted with her.

She had to get out of here.

As if on cue, the door to the room swung open. Viximon swung to face the entrance, her eyes narrowing. Truthfully, she didn't know what to expect. A man in black with the traditional shades coming in to question her? A soldier with a gun to blast her to data? Maybe just a woman with a broomstick ready to beat her to death, she mused darkly.

"I see that you're awake," a child's voice said, its tone matter-of-factly.

Viximon blinked at the one who'd entered the room. It hadn't been any of her predictions. Faintly, the Digimon realized that she was looking at the same child who'd paralyzed the Impmon some time before, the very same one she'd tried to escape from before losing consciousness.

He wasn't a particularly impressive human, Viximon noted, studying the boy who'd fully gotten into the room, closing the door behind him. He was not handsome, looking rather average. Dark brown hair framed an oval face, touching the base of his neck. Somewhat wary eyes, a dark green color, peered out at her, a look of assessment in them that she found she did not like. His build was thin, although not to the point of starvation. He was somewhere near the average height, she guessed, and he was twelve or thirteen years of age. He wore a simple long-sleeved black shirt and a pair of light pants. Rather dull, actually.

All in all, not threatening.

He studied her coolly, as if trying to decide for himself what he should make of her. Under his scrutiny, Viximon felt as if she was some sort of interesting artifact that he found on the street and was trying to find out what she was useful for. However, all he asked was a simple, "Are you hungry?"

For a brief second, Viximon wondered if she was mistaking this for the kid she saw back there. The one who faced the Impmon had looked utterly terrified, seeing as though he was ready to bolt in the other direction anytime. Even when she'd looked at him afterward, she still saw the terror in his eyes. This one was just way too calm for it.

Ah, right. People tend to react to danger very differently from their usual behavior.

Moving on to another matter; should she answer or not?

The human boy was still standing there, waiting for an answer. He didn't get any closer, also seeming to wait for her permission to do so even though it was _his_ room.

_Smart boy._

Her stomach suddenly growled, and Viximon realized how hungry she was. The boy seemed to have heard it as well. He gave her a small smile. "I will take that as a yes. Wait here." With that, he was gone again.

Left alone in the room, Viximon stared at the door in bewilderment before she started to mentally sort things out chronically. So she was trying to find somewhere to rest after running all day, escaping from the cops. When she did, the Impmon attacked her. She struggled with it, but at the level she was and the condition she was in, all she could do was keep alive – barely. Then the kid came along, the Impmon got distracted, and then the next thing she knew the Digimon was knocked out. After that, she'd given the boy one look and tried to run, but her strength hadn't been able to hold her up after all.

Speaking of which…

Viximon flicked her tail forward, examining it. It was no longer transparent, instead solid and real. She didn't feel any leaking data either. She was fully healed. It made her glad and all, but…why? Why did the human boy save her? And what did he _want_? Is this a scheme of some sorts? Did he see her injured and save her because in return, he could get something?

Just then, the door opened again, admitting the same human boy once more, this time carrying a black bowl of something. He knelt, wincing slightly as he did. Viximon suddenly remembered that the boy had been limping before. Yes, he probably hurt his ankle when dodging the Impmon's attack, she reasoned.

"Miso soup," the boy said, and Viximon realized he was talking about the yellow broth in the bowl. "But come down here. My mom would not be pleased if she found soup on my bed." His lips quirked in a wry smile, and he sat back against the wall, revealing a bandaged right ankle.

Viximon stared at the bowl cautiously, then at the boy. He was currently staring at her again with that assessing look, but less gauging and more out of curiosity now, not so intense anymore. She still didn't know if she should trust him. Yes, she was hungry, she had to admit that; she'd lived on data for the last nine weeks, but she didn't know _what_ was in the soup or if he was trying to test her.

But if he'd saved her already, why kill her now? And Digimons are naturally resistant to all biological poison after all. She was being paranoid. As always. With good reasons, but still being paranoid.

Cautiously, the Viximon stepped forward. The boy didn't do anything, merely stared at her. Faced with his indifference, Viximon hesitated some more. What _was_ he planning? He couldn't be helping her out of the goodness of his heart, of course. Nobody does. There was always some reason behind every action. This one would be no different.

It might as well that she would not accept his help. That way she wouldn't attach herself to him by favors.

Then again, he _had_ saved her life already. Accepting whatever help he would give her afterward would be more or less the same. It didn't really matter. What _did_ matter is that she now had a roof over her head and possibly somewhere to stay until she was strong enough to Digivolve back to at least Renamon. Then she would get out of here as fast as she could. The boy would be sufficient to keep her alive until that time.

Viximon finally closed the distance between her and the miso bowl. She carefully tasted it first, and when the heavenly liquid touched her tongue, she dug in. The Digimon had all but forgotten how foods tasted like these past few weeks. Humans are great cooks, she had to admit. That was one thing no other creature could beat them at, ever. And this one was no difference. The warm taste of the soup warmed her up considerably, and she finished the entire bowl off in less than five minutes, not leaving a single piece of tofu behind.

When she was done, Viximon quickly backed up, keeping a fair distance between herself and the human boy. A useful tool he might be, but she would not let herself trust him more than she could – and having him in the same room as her would be that limit. No use in letting her guards down around anything. Everyone is selfish, so she couldn't count this one out of it, young as he might be. After all, it was around this age that children started getting partnered up with Digimons, and when the bonds were formed, it often forced the child to mature. A Tamer's honor and responsibility comes hand in hand – to be a Tamer means to be exposed to danger, protecting civilians when the need arise and a load of other things Viximon could not care less about.

Speaking of which, did the kid have a partner yet? Viximon didn't want to deal with a potentially obnoxious roommate. Savior or no, she was a loner by heart – Devimon not counting; they've been partners since they were newbies in the Master's service – and having to share the room with the human boy, for she was sure she wouldn't be allowed to sleep on the roof (humans seem to have this…thing…about sleeping outside) was already a push.

As she watched, the boy picked up the bowl with a raised eyebrow, looking at its cleanliness. He was apparently amused or surprise – or both – at the speed in which she'd finished the soup, but he said nothing, instead standing to leave again. This time, however, he turned toward her before going, opening the door wide. "Do you wish to come?" he asked.

Viximon looked at him, considering the offer. It would do her only good, she supposed. It was, after all, a good plan to know the layouts of the house she lived in just in case. She couldn't be cooped up in one room forever. With another cautious look at the boy, Viximon made to follow him, and he stood aside, allowing her to go first. Her eyes narrowed at this, but then she decided that if he tried anything – and he seemed to have no weapon on him – she would K.O. him out with one move. Digimons _are_ better than humans in a few things, mainly blowing things (or people) up.

However, if he still had the fake Digivice from before that paralyzed Impmon…

But why would he attack her? He had no reason. He'd saved her, fed her and generally not be an ass up until now, so she doubted he would change his mind now. She guessed her imagination was getting _way_ overactive again. The attack she'd suffered and the Impmon had both made her be on her guard. That, coupled with the painful knowledge that she was a mere in-training, a mere _infant_ compared to her old self, made her even more paranoid.

With one last glance at the human who was somehow still standing patiently by the door, Viximon shot through the entrance and a few feet away from the child in case he _did_ try something. He didn't.

She found herself staring down a hallway. It was not too narrow, enough for two Agumons to walk side-by-side. The floor was made of wood, but she had no doubt underneath it was steel. At one far end of the hallway, a bit of fence could be seen, and behind that, a staircase. A two-story house, then?

The boy's room was situated on one end of the hallway, next to a bathroom. It was placed so that as soon as she stepped out, she faced the hallway right away. Two doors could be seen further down the hall; probably more bedrooms. That was all.

Something moved past her, and Viximon jumped aside in surprise. The boy looked at her apologetically before moving off toward the stairs. She glanced around the place one last time, memorizing the structures and placements of things before following him, still careful to keep her distance. They walked down the hall and then down the stairs, Viximon clearing it in two jumps.

On the end of the stairs, Viximon found herself standing in another hall. Except this time, the set of stairs was situated somewhere near its middle, while to her right she could see the front door, made evident by the shoe racks standing nearby and the footwear that could be seen even from here. To her left was yet another door, this one also standing at the end of the hall, although what use it was to the humans she had no idea. To the right of _that_ door was another one, and another one opposite of that one.

Somebody cleared their throat. Viximon turned to her right to see the boy standing there, waiting for her. He motioned for her to follow before turning and limping down the hall. Once again, Viximon gave the place another once-over, committing it into memory before following him at her own space. It wasn't as if she'd lost him, and if she did, she couldn't imagine what could go wrong.

Unless, of course, there was a peeved Candlemon down in the basement and out for her blood.

Viximon snorted inwardly. It was hardly a time for jokes. She must get back to her former self as quickly as possible. The Master would not be pleased to know that his servant had been saved and then helped by a human. He despised them with a passion, after all, although the reason for that hatred was known only to a few, and Viximon was not one of those few. There was also the target. She was the last one alive who had contact with him, and she wondered if he'd escaped.

No…If he could blast the Digimons like that, nothing short of the Master's second-in-command would be able to catch him.

Absentmindedly, Viximon jogged down the hallway and soon stood between two entrances. Neither had doors, however, but the one to her right had a flap of fabric covering the upper half of it. There were noises coming from that room, so she went that way, crawling underneath the curtain curiously. What was it now?

From her earliest memories, nearly fifteen years ago, Viximon glanced around the space and realized it was what people called a kitchen. There were the stoves, the sink, and a kitchen counter. In one corner of the room, facing a very large window through which the vast blue sky could be seen (except for small dots that were Digimons flying by), was a rectangular dinner table with six chairs, two on each side, one on each end. It was certainly bigger than the boy's bedroom; about almost twice the size of it. The kitchen _she_ remembered was a lot smaller, though…

The kid (Viximon despised calling him her "savior"), having rolled up his sleeves, was standing next to the sink, and there was the distinct sound of running water. After one last glance at the spacious kitchen, Viximon trotted over and jumped onto the counter, standing just out of arm's reach of the boy, but close enough to observe him. He was using a sponge to clean out dirty dishes. What was it called? She heard Devimon explained it to her once…Oh, right. _Dishwashing_.

"You aren't very talkative, are you?" the boy asked idly as he worked. Viximon looked at him, but didn't reply. He spared her one glance before turning back to the bowl he was washing. "Then how about we start with this: what gender are you? I'd hate to call you an 'it' all the time. That's reserved for animals and objects."

Viximon stared at the boy some more, then decided she can't act mute forever. Digimons, as a rule, often didn't suffer from organic diseases such as muteness, deafness or blindness. Messing up with the data _could_ happen, but very rarely. "Female," she said simply. Digimons don't have sexes, of course, since they were just data, but they could choose their genders. Nobody had been able to explain why after the Digimon made the choice, their voices started to alter. Scientists of both races were still performing experiences to find out about that.

The boy nodded. They were silent after that, she watching him warily, he focusing on his dishes. Awkwardness hung heavily upon them, but neither made a move to break it. Viximon was, after all, just waking up in a stranger's house, found out that she was saved by a little brat, got _fed_ by him, and was currently tagging along with him around the house. What was _wrong_ with her? She never acted this way before. Why…?

But she'd never _been_ in a situation like this before. How was she supposed to act?

Things were so messed up. Viximon wished it would all just go away like a bad dream, that she would wake up with Devimon telling her she wasn't so tough after all, foxy. That they would continue to wait endlessly just to know that the target had already been caught somewhere else, by someone else…

It was a great fantasy. But fantasy is fantasy. Viximon was skilled and experienced enough to know that dreaming would solve nothing. Reality will continue to be reality. She would just have to make do.

Furthermore, Digimons do not dream.

Viximon suddenly jolted as she remembered something. She didn't know how to check; her inner clock had been messed up when the target unleashed that peculiar attack on her. The In-Training looked at the boy, who was currently busying himself with his duty. She could ask him, certainly, but…

There was no choice.

"What…day is it?" Viximon forced out at last. Speaking to a human was very strange, and she felt wary around these two-legged creatures who never had the same face. They feared her, she knew that well enough. They feared her and her kind and pretty much anything that was either stronger or different from them. Or that was what the Master said. She seldom had direct contacts with any of them except for assassination purposes, spying, or when she was in need of foods. Stealing from them was easier than stealing from babes.

She fully expected the human to smirk at her since she finally talked, but he only gave her a quick look and glanced away, seeming to be thinking. "It's Saturday afternoon, around two thirty. I found you yesterday evening," he replied eventually. "Seems like an age, though."

Viximon had to agree with that. It felt like last month, not yesterday. In fact, she didn't remember clearly _everything_ from yesterday. It was just a blur, but the main points she could recall. The loss of memories…It scared her.

"At least you are alive," the boy continued, and Viximon looked up in surprise. He finished the last of the dishes and put it into the dishwashing machine to dry. Why they insisted to wash it by hands he would never know, but he wouldn't complain. "If somebody hadn't found you, you would be data by this time already."

He wasn't saying it as though he was boasting. His voice still retained that matter-of-fact tone she'd heard from him ever since he first spoke. Viximon realized the kid was just stating the obvious. She suddenly had a recollection of the boring caretaker she'd had _long_ ago back in the Digimon world, when she was still a natural In-Training Digimon. This kid could beat that one in boredom several times over.

Maybe she should see this as a blessing. Boring kids are often quiet.

She thinks.

The sound of a door being opened could be heard down the hall, and Viximon could hear several voices speaking at once. She turned to that direction, cocking her head and concentrated on them. Let's see how many people this family had. A man and a woman could make an effin' lot of kids, in her opinion; it was almost unnatural.

"Daddy, lemme see the bag! Lemme see it!" said a very young voice, female, around five or six. There were scuffling noises, a man's laughter and a woman's sigh as well. The boy next to Viximon moved, and she looked at him. He had turned to the kitchen's entrance as well, but he did not move.

"Yue, calm down," the woman's voice said gently. "We will give you the bag, okay? Just be patient."

"But I wanna show it to Awihiwo now!" the girl wailed. There was an odd noise. Is that her stamping her feet? "Now! _Pwease_? I'll do the dishes tonight!"

Viximon glanced at the boy, seeing as he was the only one at home right then. It was a strange name he had there, and, if she may add, ridiculous. "_Akihiko_," he corrected as she looked at him questioningly, looking torn between annoyance and amusement, the first real expressions he'd shown her. "My name is Akihiko. Young children often have problems with pronouncing things correctly."

Oh. That makes sense.

"You'd better hide," Akihiko added. "Else my sister just might hug you to death."

She gave him a look that said "what kind of ridiculous joke is that?" but was interrupted as a new character with the same hair color and features as Akihiko burst into the kitchen, holding up something pink and fluffy. She was also jumping up and down like a hyped-up rabbit. When she settled, however, Akihiko bent on his knees to be closer to her. He must be at least two feet taller than she, and a look of kind patience overtook his face.

Viximon wondered if he was faking.

"I'm gonna wear this to the school tawent show!" the girl – Yue – announced proudly. Her blue eyes, a shade darker than Viximon's, lit up in childish delight. In a fit of giddiness, she spun several times around the kitchen, laughing and squealing girlishly.

"Very nice, Yue-chan," Akihiko replied, inching to the left ever so slightly. Viximon stared at his back, wondering what he was doing, and then realized he was moving to cover her from view. She cocked her ear in puzzlement at his action but didn't question it. Yes, she thought he was joking about the "sister hugging to death" thing, but now that she saw how this little sister character acts, she…wasn't so sure.

Somebody else entered the kitchen, and Viximon peeked from behind Akihiko's arm in order to see the faces of the two others she'd heard. They were carrying various sacks and bags of all kind, which were all dumped onto the kitchen floor.

The man was middle-aged, somewhere around six feet tall with dark brown hair – the exact same color as Akihiko's, Viximon noted. His eyes were green, although lighter in color than his son's. He was dressed in a soldier-green jacket and black pants. Aside from a scruffy beard that looked like it needed trimming, nothing adorned his face.

His wife was lighter-haired, chestnut brown with a kind face and soft blue eyes. She could plainly be seen as Yue's mother; they shared many physical similarities, although Viximon doubted the girl's spirit was inherited from her. The woman, standing half a head shorter than her husband, exuded a calm, controlled aura Viximon didn't often see these days. Kindness, too, was evident in her.

Either way, neither of them looked like they would really stand out in a crowd.

"Akihiko!" the father said, grinning at his son. "Looks like you've cleaned up the kitchen, eh? Good! I don't have to do it tonight! See, Mimi, that was an empty threat."

The wife scowled at him. "Oh, be quiet, Fuji." She also looked at her son, smiling gently. Her gaze suddenly shifted to the side, and Viximon realized she was seen. Mimi's eyes lit up with delight and she clapped her hands together before walking over to them. Viximon tried to fight back the urge to attack. She didn't want to give the impression that she was a feral monster. That might get her tossed out on the street, and she decided that staying somewhere with reliable technology and people feeding her was better than the city any day.

"Ah, you've woken up!" Mimi said, thankfully standing a reasonable distance from Viximon and her son. "I'm so glad! So what should I call you? A he or a she?" It was the exact same question Akihiko had asked before, and Viximon wasn't one to answer the same thing twice. She remained silent, and taking that as the cue, Akihiko spoke for her.

"Viximon's a she, Mom."

"She's awake?" Yue exclaimed. "Lemme see! Lemme see!" She scrambled toward them, making Viximon feel increasingly edgy. She was surrounded by humans for the past weeks anyway, but never this close, and never like this. Her instinct told her to either fight or flee, but she remained where she was, tense, but still there. Where else _could_ she go? And they were not trying to murder her. That was the most positive thing she'd heard in years.

"Yue, please control yourself," Akihiko said, the barest hint of warning in his voice. Amazingly, the energetic little girl with the pink dress subdued somewhat and smiled shyly. From behind him, Viximon stared at the boy, one ear cocked again. He did not strike her as the type who anyone but programmed machines would obey, but the control he held over his little sister was rather excellent. Mm…She wondered what made him like that, and how.

Fuji rolled his eyes, until now ignored. "Can we please get over the stuff now? That is still a no, Yue-chan. You are not going to strangle the poor Digimon. She is not your pet puppy. And by the way," the man turned to face Viximon, who, seeing as everything was safe, stepped out from behind Akihiko, "welcome to the family. I would introduce my Digimon partner to you, too, if he hadn't been sleeping. Ah, well. Tomorrow, maybe." He shrugged, then clapped his hands. "Dinner!"

"Dinner!" Yue threw up her little fists. Mimi smiled at them both.

_Dinner?_ Viximon nearly turned and run right then. Meals weren't served at the Master's halls, of course. She hadn't had dinner in weeks – except from that soup thing but she knew the concept of it well enough, both from personal experience and other sources. She _wasn't_ going to sit about with a bunch of humans –!

"I already ate," Akihiko said politely. He cocked his head behind him. "And she, too. So if you will excuse us, I have homework." The boy made to leave, and Viximon followed, silently grateful for the help. Maybe she could tolerate being put in the same house with a bunch of energetic people – and a Digimon – for awhile, at least. She could do that. She'd had worse. But she'd rather keep her interaction with them at a minimum.

That was about as much as her sanity could take.

Viximon pointedly ignored the eager look on Yue's face as she leaped onto the counter, then to the door before vanishing outside, close on Akihiko's heels. As soon as she exited the crowded and noisy kitchen, she couldn't quite hold back a sigh of relief. There was a reason she liked solitude. They made her nervous, and most of all, they annoyed her to no end. Too talkative. Too much people.

They made the trip the stairs again, this time the boy – Akihiko – moving slower due to his ankle. Once again, Viximon cleared the stairs first, and she made for the room immediately, waiting there in frustration since she was too small (she winced at this) to jump up and turn the round handle. She didn't even _have_ proper hands right now.

What an embarrassment. At least none of the Master's other minions were close by right now. Public humiliation was the last thing Viximon wanted. She would never dare to even _look_ at them after this if this gets out, she knew. But she shouldn't be worried. After all, nobody knew what happened to her. For all that happens, they might just think she'd been destroyed by that light, too. There was no reason to be concerned, really. That light should have blinded most people around there, and the Ogremons she'd ordered to follow her of course wouldn't be able to keep up. In other words, it was only her and Devimon near the target at that time.

Her ears wilted slightly. She missed him. They were not friends, but they were as close as they could be, seeing as they served the Master and it was every Digimon for themselves. She respected him for his power and lightning-quick strategy skills while _he_ respected her for her agreeable nature and speed. They complimented each other well, and they've grown to be a team.

Devimon was the only one she could tolerate as a companion for a long period of time, and he hers. And he was gone.

Viximon quickly pushed the thought out of her mind, however. Emotions are dangerous things. They could be your greatest hindrance and enemy, stronger than even the Master. They make you weaker…or they could make you stronger, in the form of hatred. But then you get out of control…

Emotions are still dangerous, no matter which way you looked at it.

She snapped out of her thoughts, however, as the door opened. Akihiko looked down (_down_!) at her for a second, seeming as though he was thinking about something, then opened the door wider. Giving him one last glance even though her paranoid against him had fade somewhat, she dashed into the room and got onto the bed again, settling down, her tail flickering.

Akihiko closed the door behind him after he'd entered and went to sit on the chair in front of the desk, spinning in it until he was sitting sideway. He bent over to search in his backpack for a bit before pulling out an iPad, a thin mechanical slab that was like the first iTouch, except much bigger and barely half an inch thick. It was a device people used for writing and copying notes. Much better than notebooks.

Pulling yet another thing out of the backpack, this time a green paper notebook, the boy opened it, looked at the page it was turned to for a few seconds before closing his eyes and heaved a sigh. He then proceeded to pull out a little book and proceeded to read it, sometimes jolting down notes on the iPad with the special pen for it.

Viximon watched him for the next hour but not really seeing the boy as she reviewed the short amount of time she'd spent so near an actual family. She never made any contact with normal individuals like this for a long while now, and it alienated her. She didn't belong here, she knew that. Her place was back in the Digital World doing something for the Master…or chasing after the target.

Curling her tail around herself, Viximon remembered the warmth the family had exuded. The _completeness_ of it. It felt comfortable, it felt safe. Safer than the safest place she'd known, and that have been the Master's hall, where she always had to watch out for assassins who thought they could outsmart her.

She was right. She didn't belong here. The sooner she was away from this place, the better. Before it affected her faith in the Master's plan.

Before her, the boy called Akihiko started humming softly, a sad, sorrowful tune. Viximon smirked, wallowing in the irony of it all. Then she directed her gaze to the blue sky outside, past the boy's head. She contented herself with that sight for the next few hours, running her mind through the methods that could get her power back the quickest.

Yes, the child and his family would be sufficient in keeping her fed and warm until then.


End file.
